The moment that voice rang out, Ozz—who'd been sitting on the bed—leapt up excitedly and dashed for the door.
In contrast, Bucky wore a face full of reluctant bitterness.
He really couldn't stand grueling training. With so many powerhouses aboard the ship, it wasn't like he'd be the one charging into battle for treasure anyway.
Still, seeing Ozz and Shanks sprinting toward the stern, he didn't want to get left behind. So he slapped on a façade of calm and jogged after them.
"Wait up, you two!"
The trio left the cabin and made their way toward the back of the ship, passing a few burly crewmen sprawled out drunk along the way.
Scenes like this—impromptu feasts and random drunken collapses—had long ceased to surprise them. They headed to the storage room to grab their weapons.
Bucky chose throwing knives. Shanks, as always, went with his beloved saber.
Ozz paused in thought before picking up a flintlock pistol.
It wasn't a random choice. He'd thought this through.
Not only did the firearm suit his innate Observation Haki—it played perfectly to his strengths as a sneaky support type—it also had one key advantage...
The sword path was just too competitive.
From legends like Golden Lion, Roger, and Rayleigh, to contemporaries like Red-Hair and Mihawk, and even future freaks like Three-Sword-Style Roronoa Zoro...
Trying to stand out in the world of swordsmanship? Low return on investment.
If you're gonna aim for the top, you may as well go all the way. And let's be real—Ozz doubted he even had the talent for swordsmanship in the first place.
Even if, through sheer effort, he clawed his way to the title of World's Strongest Swordsman, he'd still have to deal with Mihawk and Zoro hounding him day and night.
He could already hear them yelling,
"Fight me! I'm the man who'll surpass the World's Greatest Swordsman!"
Annoying. Absolutely exhausting.
So why not become the world's greatest gunman instead?
As a former Blue Star citizen, Ozz had always admired firearms. With his innate Observation Haki, he had a clear edge.
And best of all? That lane wasn't crowded.
Famous snipers down the line? Pretty much just Yasopp, Usopp, Van Augur... maybe toss in Ben Beckman. It was a small field with no one really gatekeeping it.
Ozz figured he had a solid shot.
Once he learned to infuse Conqueror's Haki into his bullets, mastered precognitive observation, and stocked up on Sea Prism Stone ammo...
Okay, maybe he couldn't one-shot a Yonko—
But knocking off a Yonko Commander per bullet? That felt fair. Shanks did one-shot a guy with a 3 billion bounty, after all.
Once he reached top-tier strength, Ozz had it all planned out: travel the world, enjoy life, witness all the legendary moments firsthand. And when he got old, settle down in a cozy little manor with a few maids to look after him.
He'd been a wage slave in his past life. This time around, he was going to live large.
But dreams were one thing, reality another. At the moment, he was just a slightly tougher-than-average kid with awakened Observation Haki.
Sure, Rayleigh was a bit of a slacker teacher, but he was still the Dark King—good enough for laying the groundwork.
Time to grit his teeth and train.
And so began Ozz's first lesson aboard the ship.
"Combat fundamentals always start with physical training," Rayleigh explained. "Whether it's blades or bare fists—
Even if you're a ranged fighter with a gun, you'll need speed, awareness, and Haki to stay alive out here."
To kids growing up in the New World, the concept of Haki wasn't foreign. So Rayleigh didn't waste time explaining.
Instead, he turned his eyes to the weapons they'd chosen.
"Once you've built a strong foundation, you can branch into whatever fighting style suits you best." He took a sip from his gourd and added,
"Now tell me—what do each of you want to learn? If it's something I know, I'll teach it."
"I want to learn swordsmanship!" Shanks answered without hesitation. Influenced by Roger and Rayleigh, he'd always had a thing for long swords.
"Swordsmanship, huh?" Rayleigh chuckled. "Alright. Starting today, five thousand swings a day. First, we learn how to grip a sword properly."
Then he looked at Bucky. "Daggers and swords aren't so different. Start by getting a feel for the motion."
Finally, his gaze landed on the wide-eyed Ozz. Not knowing the kid too well, Rayleigh decided to ask directly.
"What about you? Got anything in mind?"
"Can I learn anything?"
"Sure. Though if it's gunplay, our ship's sniper Bitam has perfect aim..."
"I want to learn Conqueror's Haki infusion!"
"Pfffft—!!!"
Rayleigh spat out his drink nearly five meters.
After wiping his mouth and glaring at Ozz, he grumbled,
"Kid, I don't know where you picked up that term, but that kind of advanced technique—at the very least—requires you to have Conqueror's Haki in the first place!"
The implication: Ozz probably didn't even have the aptitude for it. So what was the point of talking about advanced stuff?
But Ozz just grinned, not the least bit discouraged.
"Well... if I do have it, Uncle Rayleigh, would you teach me?"
"Why not?"
Rayleigh figured it was just a kid's wild fantasy and waved it off.
After that brief exchange, the trio began their first training session.
Strapped with heavy metal weights, Ozz did one-handed pushups on the deck while reading the day's newspaper.
At the same time, he kept honing his Observation Haki.
Through his heightened senses, he saw Shanks drenched in sweat, earnestly focused on his sword swings—his young face set with determination.
Bucky was technically training too... but Ozz could tell from the deliberate sluggishness that the guy was totally slacking.
"Shanks's sword swings... they're getting sharper each time."
After finishing his strength set, Ozz watched as Shanks completed his daily five-thousand swings.
You really had to hand it to the guy—he was a natural swordsman.
The improvement was obvious. Ozz, ever the opportunist, carefully studied Shanks's form, memorizing each detail with surgical precision.
Once Shanks set his sword down to rest, Ozz picked it up, visualizing the flow of energy and motion he'd just sensed...
And began his own sword swings.
"Greedy little runt."
From the lookout post above, a muscular man with long hair and tinted shades glanced down at the stern where Ozz trained. He spoke to the blond, chubby man beside him.
"Wants to learn guns and swords both. If he comes to me for axe techniques next, I'm not teaching him."
"I usually don't like snipers who mess with swords," said Bitam, the Roger Pirates' sharpshooter and an expert in Observation Haki. "But this kid... he's different."
He could see the truth.
"Ozz is stealing Shanks's hard work."
And it was true.
The sword techniques Shanks had honed through five thousand repetitions—Ozz mastered them flawlessly in just a thousand swings.
That realization made his eyes light up.
"Damn... is this Sharingan-level Observation Haki?"
Ozz's Observation Haki didn't cover an especially wide range—just a few dozen meters, even after years of development.
But where it lacked in scope, it made up in detail. It was like being born with maxed-out resolution.
Every tiny shift in muscle, airflow, and energy... he could sense it all.
So when it came to technical mastery, he didn't need brute strength.
He just needed to watch.
And copy.